


Vespers

by lavolpe (lykxxn)



Series: Legacy [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lykxxn/pseuds/lavolpe
Summary: There's a reason nobody speaks of Lydia Frye's brother.





	Vespers

He is born on the second Tuesday of November, small and seemingly weak. His first few days are a battle, and when his health begins to improve and his parents are certain he will survive, they name him Victor Jacob Frye. His affectionate nickname, coined by his four-year-old sister, is Jasper, and it sticks like glue.

When his mother calls him to the table, he is Jasper. When his father reprimands him for being careless, he is Jasper Frye. To his teachers, he’s just Frye, and his friends call him Vick. Whilst Lydia trains to become an Assassin, his parents, plagued by the worry of his near-death experience at birth, teach him logic and arithmetic, hoping that he might want to be a businessman or accountant when he grows up.

Jasper Frye is just Jasper Frye.

When he is eleven, he learns what Lydia is _really_ doing. He doesn’t mind.

‘You really don’t?’ asks Lydia before prayers.

‘No, of course not,’ he replies. ‘I like arithmetic much better than fighting anyway. God bless Mummy,’ he continues, ‘and God bless Daddy. God bless Lydia. God bless Grandpa and Auntie Evie and Uncle Henry. God bless the Assassins.’

Lydia smirks. ‘You forgot someone.’

‘Did I?’ he asks, dropping his hands for one moment, just to glance at her. ‘Oh, right! God bless _me_!’

The next September, Emmett takes him to a new school. It’s a boarding school, and all the students seem friendly. The headmaster introduces them to a boy named Groves, who beams at Emmett and nods at Jasper. ‘I’d be happy to help,’ he says. ‘Your son’s in safe hands with me, Mr. Frye.’

That seems to satisfy Emmett, so he leaves and the headmaster goes over Jasper’s new timetable. The eleven-year-old looks enthralled, and hurries out of the office for his first class, and promptly meets with Groves and what looks to be a few of his friends.

‘Well, well, Frye,’ he sneers, and Jasper cranes his neck up a little further. If he wasn’t so small … ‘I have to say, I never thought we’d be seeing _Jacob Frye’s grandson_ here. Why don’t we see if you’re as tough as him, hmm?’

Jasper’s brain only registers three things: Groves’ hands on his shoulders, falling, and the impact of his body hitting every stair as he thumps down.

It’s not the last time it happens.

In his letters he writes about how much of a good time he’s having, how much he enjoys the lessons, how nice his new friends are.

Lydia reads the truth.

Lydia reads the names they call him, the way they use Grandpa against him, the questions of how to remove bruises quickly, and, swallowing the lump in her throat, promises, at his request, not to say a word.

_Victor Frye, Victor Frye_

_Pushed him down the stairs and made him cry!_

Summer comes as a huge relief. Lydia’s never hugged him harder.

‘Teach me to fight like you,’ Jasper begs Jacob. ‘Maybe then Dad might see I’m good enough to be an Assassin.’

Jacob complies with Jasper’s request, not questioning why he’s keeping it a secret. He knows Emmett and his overprotective nature enough to know the reaction the training would provoke.

Year after year Jasper endures, until he is fifteen. He’s had enough.

Pocketing one of Jacob’s knuckledusters, he arrives at school with a newfound spirit. When Groves comes for him, followed by each of his friends, he gets every single one of them, adrenaline coursing through him like a river, finally bursting its banks, taking back what was taken from it all those years ago.

‘Anyone else?’ he snarls.

‘Yes,’ comes a refined voice, and Victor freezes. The headmaster approaches and Victor knows, at that moment, he’s a dead man.

‘Don’t think I don’t know who you got the knuckleduster from,’ snaps Emmett on the way home.

Victor shuffles into the dining room. He can already feel Jacob and Evie’s eyes on him. Lydia shuts the book she’s in the middle of reading. ‘I’m leaving. There’s no way I’m going to be part of this conversation,’ she hisses, ‘because if I do I think I might kill someone. Jasper, I’ll be out front if you need me.’

She pushes past Emmett and out of the door.

Emmett slams the knuckleduster on the table. ‘I cannot _believe_ you gave this to my son! So this is what you’ve been doing, hmm? _This_ is what your little outings have been? You went _behind my back_ to teach my son to fight! You _lied to me_ , you—’

‘Shut up!’ Victor yells, surprising everyone in the room, but mostly himself. ‘Shut up! How _dare_ you blame Grandpa! He didn’t give me the knuckleduster; I stole it! I _begged_ him to train me to fight! I told you I didn’t like school, it was in my first letter home, and instead of listening to me you told me it would get better! And do you know what? It _didn’t_! But like always, you never seemed to care, so I started lying to you! You never care about what I do or what I say! You always do whatever you think is best and never listen to anyone who says you’re wrong!’

‘Jasper, listen to me—’

‘No! How about _you_ listen to _me_ for a change: sending me to that school was the worst decision you ever made. You ruined my life!’

The tears are streaming down his face now, dripping onto the floor, and without a second glance he hurries out of the door and joins Lydia in the garden. She sidles along the bench so he can sit down, and wraps one arm around him. ‘I’m sorry, Jasper,’ she murmurs.

‘No,’ he replies. ‘I’m not Jasper. He’s boring. Idolises his father too much. Please call me Victor.’

Lydia smiles sadly at him.

She marries Sam early September, and Emmett sends Victor back to boarding school, with the parting words; ‘You’ve only got three more years left, you can power through them.’ Victor smiles grimly at him.

He’s glad when summer rolls around, but with it brings the terror of war. ‘Why doesn’t Vick stay with me in London?’ she suggests. ‘If he wants to be an Assassin, he’s got to prove himself. He can help me with some paperwork. Besides,’ she adds, ‘I don’t want to be on my own. With Sam signing up …’ She doesn’t need to continue.

Emmett approves wholly of the idea.

Summer with Lydia are the best six weeks of Victor’s life. He gets to help with a few missions and looks through some papers, but mostly they have fun, staying in and baking, doing crosswords and puzzles together. One day they bicycle to the sea, and end up staying a day longer than they intended.

When the sun sets on his final day in London, Lydia promises, ‘If there’s any trouble, write me and I’ll be there as soon as I can. No more settling things on your own. If I have to take you out of school, I will. Father can stuff it for all I care.’

Victor doesn’t write Lydia.

He doesn’t write Lydia until he knows he can’t put it off any longer, until he knows the words that will end his suffering in this eternal hell.

Lydia smiles in relief upon finally getting a letter from her brother.

_My dearest sister,_

_I am sorry for neglecting you all these weeks._

_It hasn’t been easy, dealing with Groves and then my schoolwork on top of it. I want to apologise, for the things I have done, and for the things I am about to do._

_I honestly have to say, this summer was the greatest summer of my life. I’m so glad we got the chance to do all the things we did, especially the missions I went on. Assassin life is the greatest life, so you really have to keep at it, OK?_

_It would break my heart if you didn’t._

_Secondly, when you next write Sam, can you tell him I miss him? His jokes always were the best. Remember when we danced at your wedding and he let me get a little tipsy? That was fun, even if Father did yell at me._

_Thirdly, I wrote Grandpa too, but I’d like you to tell him this yourself: I’m so proud to have his name, even if I haven’t acted much like a Frye these few years._

_And finally, I hope this blasted war ends soon, for you and Sam more so than for me. Maybe then you can spend more time together, maybe travel the world and eventually make me a proud uncle._

_I just have one more thing to tell you, Lydia:_

_I’m sorry._

_Yours truly,_

_Jasper_


End file.
